


Respite

by Lomii



Series: The Adoration [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Injury, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7150589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomii/pseuds/Lomii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky falls out of a tree. Luckily, Steve is there to keep him happily distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

Of all the stupid ways to get put out of commission on the field, and it just had to be him and his punk ass falling out of a goddamn tree.

And it hadn't even been that high up. He had spent the past three and a half hours on the highest branch that could support his weight, watching through his scope as the rest of the Commandos had swept through the HYDRA base. Dum Dum, Falsworth and Dernier had planted explosives all around the front of the base, and then bombarded it with as many grenades as they could carry, enough to make Bucky's ears ring as the explosions went off one after another. HYDRA men had poured out, shooting guns wildly and hollering at each other. Steve, Gabe and Morita had been at the back of the base, ready to storm through and clear it out before the soldiers outside could figure out what the hell was going on.

Bucky had the perfect angle through the trees to pick off the soldiers as they tried to regroup. Dum Dum's group had engaged with the soldiers right at the front of the base while he had picked off the men further back who were still emerging from the wrecked entrance or circling around from the back.

He had seen the flash of Steve's shield in the distance as his group had advanced into the building. The soldiers had gotten even more frantic as Dum Dum, Falsworth and Dernier had pushed forward, laying down bullets relentlessly while Steve had blazed through the base with Gabe and Morita, taking out any reinforcements and securing the Intel they were all here for.

Bucky had kept his eyes open for any signs of movement. Dernier and Falsworth were guarding the front and back entrances while Dum Dum scouted the surrounding area for any soldiers. He went back towards Dernier and turned towards Bucky's perch, giving the all clear.

Bucky had breathed out, relieved at their success and lack of any complications. He had holstered his rifle and quickly climbed down the tree to regroup with the Commandos and find out what Intel they had found.

He had managed to shuffle down all the branches without a hitch until the last two. The only way to get to the branch closets to the ground was to jump from the one above it. The gap was barely a meter wide, and Bucky had easily managed to jump up to get to his perch. So he had jumped down, mind already going over their extraction plan.

And in his distraction he had misjudged where his feet would land, and had nearly undershot entirely. One boot slipped off and slammed his shin into the branch while the other jerked forward instinctively to try and compensate. But his slip made him veer, making his upper body flail left while his right leg had tried to go right. His foot buckled and cracked his ankle into the bark. The pain had immediately exploded through his ankle and shot up his body, making his leg tense and spasm uncontrollably. His brain was shocked into hyper-focus, except all of that focus was on the agonizing fire radiating from his right leg and not on catching himself on the branch.

And so he had fallen straight out of the tree.

He was lucky he hadn't landed on his fool head and broken his spine in half, but the uncontrolled tumble through the air meant he also had the luck of landing almost upright. Both his feet crashed into the ground and the rest of his body had followed, arms flailing, in what Bucky imagines was the most undignified belly flop ever attempted.

Except Bucky had not cared a single wit at how ridiculous he must have looked, since was trying his hardest at not screaming his lungs out.

The slip on the branch had been bad, almost certainly a sprained ankle that he would of needed to rest for a few days. The smash into the forest ground had felt like his entire foot had been stabbed, electrocuted and then plunged into lava. White hot pain was pulsing in his ankle and running up his leg. He had clenched his teeth so hard he thought he was going to break his jaw, and kept his scream painfully lodged in his throat.

He had lain on the ground wheezing for dear life, afraid to move at all and not cause himself any more horrific amounts of pain that he couldn't deal with. He had continued gasping, unable to catch his breathe from slamming his chest into the ground. His vision blurred from lack of oxygen. He had tried to take deeper breathes but only succeeded in making a sharp flair of pain stab him in the side. Bruised or broken ribs? They had felt pretty damn broken as he huffed as much air as he could manage.

Slowly, painfully, he had gotten his arms under him and levered himself up the tiniest amount. His ribs protested wildly, and forced a whimper out of his lungs. He looked over his shoulder at his foot, half expecting it to not even be attached; he couldn't feel anything below his knee. But it was still there, pointing towards his other foot and not looking like something that had just gone through a meat grinder.

Bucky had wanted to laugh hysterically, but quickly squashed the idea. He would definitely pass out if he tried that. Or – with the way his luck was going today – he would stab his lungs with his broken ribs and then suffocate in his own blood.

Instead he had lowered his head down and shoved his face into the dirt, clamped his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut.

And now here he lay, on the freezing ground, half conscious and feeling utterly pathetic while he fought to keep his dinner in his stomach. The absolute last thing he wanted to be dealing with was a puddle of sick that he wouldn't be able to move away from.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned out, blinking rapidly. Tears were filling his eyes as the pain settled into a sharp throbbing all along his right side. He felt woozy and dazed; his hands were shaking under his torso, his skin was clammy and he could barely think straight.

Bucky knew he couldn't move. Any slight shift made his body seize up with pain, churned his stomach and made his brain blank out. The only thing he could do was wait for the boys to realize he hadn't rendezvoused at the base.

And he knew they would come searching for him. The boys were the most loyal men he had served with, and Steve would plow through the forest as soon as he suspected Bucky was in any kind of danger. The only problem was he knew that whatever had been done to him by the HYDRA scientists was going to make things difficult.

He had seen cuts and bruises disappear overnight, without leaving any sort of trace. No scars, no tenderness. He had gotten a concussion once, and it had been a serious one. He had been vomiting, confused, unable to string two words together and falling unconscious every ten minutes. The doctors had been concerned, and Steve had been even more distressed, with his teary blue eyes and anxious frown. Bucky had remembered Steve hovering over him every time he cracked his eyes open, looking more and more frightened as nothing seemed to improve. He had clutched at Bucky's limp hand, and when they were alone he had peppered it with kisses while his other one had stroked through Bucky's hair over and over.

It was still a blur of Steve and pain when he thinks back, but Bucky distinctly remembers falling asleep at some point, and then waking up, with Steve slumped in the chair next to him, feeling completely fine. He almost thought he had dreamed up the entire incident, because he hadn't felt any pain whatsoever. No lingering headache, no nothing. He knew he should of been laid up for days.

He had started to panic then, wondering what the sick scientists had managed to do to him to make this kind of thing possible, when Steve had started shuffling and waking up. Bucky had shoved his worry away, because he sure as shit wasn't gonna let Steve know he was a fucked up HYDRA experiment. Steve had seen he was awake and jumped up from his seat, leaning over and peering into Bucky's eyes, asking questions and looking like his death had warmed over.

Bucky had mumbled out his answers, pretending to be more exhausted than he was. He had said he could barely remember what had happened, and asked how long he had been out of commission for. He'd acted happy when Steve said only a day, saying it must of not been as bad as it looked. Steve had still look concerned, and the furrow on his brow hadn't gone, but he looked immensely relieved to see Bucky talking and already grumbling about when he could get out of medical.

The staff had kept him for another day, giving him looks that made Bucky extremely nervous. They looked like they thought he was lying, but he couldn't fake the fact that physically he was fine, and so he had been released from the clutches of medical. Steve had kept giving him sideways looks for the rest of the day, and when they had gotten back to the privacy of their tent he had wrapped himself around Bucky's back and softly asked if he really was fine.

Bucky hadn't wanted to lie, but he knew that if Steve knew he had been turned into a freaky lab experiment he would never treat Bucky the same way. Sure, he would still care and worry as much as he always has when Bucky is involved. And he knew Steve would stay with him, love him, probably cherish him even more so Bucky had no doubts about Steve's affection for him, no matter what had happened. But the knowledge would sit in Steve's mind, and push forward whenever they had to deal with HYDRA. He would get angry, and Bucky knew that Steve would let it control him.

So he had shifted within the circle of Steve's arms, cupped his face and kissed him as softly as he could, eyes half open and staring into those baby blue eyes. He had rested their foreheads together and nuzzled his nose along Steve's cheek, towards his neck. Murmured in his ear that he was fine, that he was sorry for making Steve worry, that he would be more careful. They had stayed in each others arms for the rest of the night, slowly kissing until Bucky had drifted off with his face pressed into Steve's neck.

Captain America was a tactical genius, the most brave, selfless soldier of the whole U.S Army, ready to assist in any conflict and help win the war. But Steve Rogers was just a kid from Brooklyn, standing up against bullies and joined at the hip with Bucky Barnes. And wherever Bucky went, Steve would follow. They were inseparable. They were each others blind spots.

Bucky wouldn't be able to live with himself if he was the reason his best guy was dropped in a fight.

So he couldn't tell Steve. Or any of the Commandos. He had to act as normal as possible while he was in stupid amounts of pain and wishing he would just fall unconscious already.

Well, that was just swell, wasn't it?

\----------  

Darkness was beginning to inch through the forest as the minutes went by, and the snap of fall air was getting more uncomfortable. He was still wearing his lighter summer coat, and the frigid ground was leaching out any warmth he had. The chilled gusts of wind rattling through the trees was making his muscles want to shiver. He tried to tense them more, stop them from shaking, but it was barely made a difference. He just felt more and more weak.

He was starting to hurt everywhere, a dull pulse through his body that was sapping the strength right out of him. And the cold was getting into his head, making his thoughts dim and flat. He could almost feel the welcoming black of oblivion around the edges of his mind, but he just couldn't fall over the edge. He could feel something keeping him awake while his brain kept spiraling away from him.

“Bucky!”

_Steve._

“Thank Christ,” he huffed out.

He listened to the pound of running feet behind him, knowing instinctively that they were Steve's. He had probably run full tilt from the base towards Bucky's perch.

“Buck,” Steve thumped onto the dirt by his head, shuffled around until Bucky could glance his eyes up.

“Hey, pal,” he forced out. Bucky's jaw did not want to cooperate with him.

Steve's eyes snapped over his body, looking for obvious injuries. He glanced up at the tree, then at the twigs and leaves Bucky had brought down with him. And then the punk quirked an eyebrow and full-on grinned at him. Mischief was shinning in his eyes.

“Did you fall out of the tree?”

Bucky gave him the meanest glare he could muster. Steve outright laughed, threw his head back like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

The punk.

“Yuk it up, wise guy,” he hissed out. Steve's mirth dimmed at the strangled sound.

“Where're you hurt, Buck?” His hands hovered over Bucky's head and back, wanting to touch but not wanting to hurt. He was getting that look on his face again. Anxious frown and worried eyes.

“Ankle. Right. Uh...ribs and chest.” Bucky clenched his eyes shut as the pain grated at his senses.

“How bad?”

“Mm, pretty fucking bad. Ankle's worst.”

“Can you move it at all?”

Bucky laughed before he could stop himself. His ribs protested, he jerked from the pain, and nearly bit off his tongue from the blazing fire racing up his leg. He heard himself make a sound like a dying animal, guttural and choking. His vision blacked out entirely.

“Bucky! Buck, shh, shh. Just-” a hand clamped onto his neck, another slid under his dirt covered cheek and cradled his rigid jaw, “Just, focus on me, Buck. I'm sorry. Try to relax. I'm here, right here.”

He breathed out hard as the pain crested. Knives were stabbing at his leg, but he concentrated on the press of Steve's hands and the sound of his voice. His fingers were hot against Bucky's chilled skin. They rubbed at his nape and clutched his jaw painfully tight, like Steve was trying to leave his own bruises. He forced his watery eyes open and tried to ignore the pain.

Steve was looking like he was the one getting ready to bawl his eyes out now. Bucky tried to muster up a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Not feelin' too swell,” he managed to eke out.

Steve grimace-smiled back at him.

“Well, your looking real classy down there, dirt all over your face. Gets a guy goin', handsome.”

“Shut your fuckin' kisser, Steve.”

“I thought you liked my mouth, Buck? You don't want me to kiss you better?”

No one would believe Bucky if he said Captain America was the most sarcastic little shithead he had ever met. The world had no idea what he had to put up with.

He wanted to keep joshing with Steve, but his sluggish brain didn't want to go along with him. He closed his eyes and listened to the air whistling through his lungs.

“Barnes!”

Bucky blinked, and knew he must be losing time, since Morita was now crouching by his head, trying to look at his eyes and asking him questions. Dum Dum is hovering further back, scanning the surroundings. Probably looking for the heinous enemy that had managed to ambush Bucky. The rest of the boys must of stayed to guard the base.

Bucky can already tell this isn't going to end well for him and his self-respect.

“You hit your head Sarge? Nauesa, dizziness?”

“He said his right ankle was the worst, and his chest and ribs.”

“Did you fall from the tree, Barnes?”

Goddamnit. He can see Dum Dum's face is lit up with childlike glee, already knowing the answer.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Dum Dum's laugh is obnoxiously loud in the calm of the forest. And Morita grins while he tries to examine Bucky's side.

“Did you fall asleep Barnes? HYDRA raids too boring for you?”

Bucky feels like a complete moron. He couldn't of gotten shot by a Nazi or HYDRA agent, or attacked by a bear, or anything that would give him a shred of dignity. No, he – a sniper – fell out of a tree.

He's never going to hear the end of this.

\---------- 

Bucky was sick of staring at the ceiling. He was sick of the books piled by his cot. He was sick of the cold. He was sick of the pain.

Bucky feels like he is slowly losing his mind. He had always hated staying still as a kid, driving his Ma mad with his constant moving, constant talking. Now he hated being idle because it meant he had to think. About the war, about himself. What had been done to him. He got restless and mad about it every time, and the only way to not think about his miserable life was to do something. Concentrate on the outside world and not his screwy mind.

And Steve can always make him feel focused. They could talk, fool around, or just sit in comfortable silence. He never retreated into his head and relieved every painful detail of the past year if Steve was with him.

Except Steve wasn't here. He was in meetings, going over the intel from the HYDRA base, and being Captain America. The rest of the boys were at the pub. And Bucky was still in his uncomfortable cot, dying of boredom. He wanted to smoke, but the doctors had confiscated his cigarettes. He wanted to sleep, but had already slept through the day. He wanted to bathe, but he couldn't stand up.

He groans into his hands and scrubs at his face. He was really starting to stink from spending the past five days out in enemy territory, two getting back to the SSR base and another day stuck in medical getting splints and bandages put on his leg. The scruff on his jaw was going to start turning into a proper beard, and it itched like hell.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters. He crosses his arms and shuts his eyes.

Steve would be back soon. He could hold out until then, and then bully him into entertaining Bucky. He knew Steve hated it when he was in pain, and that staying in their room all day would be driving him nuts. He might be generous enough to find Bucky a pack of smokes.

Or he would continue the ribbing that had been going on for the past week. Apparently, tree related injuries were not safe from the relentless mocking of one Steve Rogers.

_“I thought snipers were supposed to know their way around a tree? Goes with the profession?”_

_“Did you and the tree have a falling out, Buck?”_

“What an ass.” Bucky reaches for his pillow and shoves it further up the cot, and tries to rest his head in a position that wont hurt his neck.

\---------- 

Bucky has resorted to reciting street names from Brooklyn by the time Steve opens the door. He looks tired from a day full of meetings, but he smiles when Bucky meets his gaze.

“You look like your ready to punch someone in the face,” Steve says. He closes and locks the door before putting the files in his hand down on the table. His crinkled eyes and happy smile make Bucky feel even more cranky.

“Yeah, I'm having a great time lying in this stinkin' cot, doing sweet F.A.”

“I'd've thought you'd enjoy the break, since we've been trailing all over Europe.”

“Aw sure, a break where I get to sit here on my own, doing nothin' and more nothin'. I don't want to go to the pub, or have a smoke, no sir.”

Steve sits by Bucky's hips, somehow looking even more happy than he did a second ago. Bucky tilts his chin down and glares up at Steve.

Who starts grinning.

“You're enjoyin' this.”

Steve widens his eyes innocently. “Now why would you say that?”

Bucky works his jaw and tries to think of the words that will fling all his frustration at Steve's stupid face. He opens his mouth, but Steve is leaning over him, placing one hand by Bucky's shoulder and tilting his chin up with the other.

Steve kisses him forcefully but doesn't part his lips. Just cups his chin and alternates from Bucky's top lip to bottom lip, all while looking into his eyes. They're half lidded and darkening with desire, but still full of patient fondness, even as Bucky continues to glare at him.

Annoyingly, this is exactly what Bucky wants right now. A wonderful distraction from his pains and boredom with Steve – who is apparently letting his hair down, at long last. The Commandos have been doing back-to-back missions for nearly two months, with no down time in-between. And nearly all of those missions had been of the unpredictable combat variety, meaning they had both been a little too wound up to do anything other than kiss, and then collapse next to each other and snatch as much sleep as they could.

Bucky wants to be annoyed. He wants to sulk and complain at the unfairness of his entire situation. Giving into Steve's gentle persuading feels like he's already lost the argument that he didn't even get to start.

Steve leans back slightly, with his tiny smirk and raised eyebrow already in place, and flicks his gaze over Bucky's face. He looks the most relaxed Bucky has seen in weeks, all soft edges and impish flirting. It makes his heart flutter every time, looking at Steve now and remembering the small, scrappy version from Brooklyn. So full of kindness, generosity, and the desire to do good. To help people. But also carrying such a sharp amount of anger and bitterness. From feeling weak, helpless or being a burden on others. It would make Steve quiet, distant, like he was ashamed to have such negative thoughts around people, when he had more than the less fortunate of the city. Even when he and Bucky had been living in poverty for years, barely scraping by like everyone else, the anger had stayed with him.

But now, even in the middle of a war, Steve was somehow better. Maybe it was an effect of the serum, but Steve was no longer fighting with himself so much. Like he had managed to accept his anger as a part of him. A part that he needed, so he would always know how to be a better person.

Steve was no longer a burden – not weak or sick – and as Captain America, he could help people in ways he never could of. Even in the middle of the war, maybe that was enough for Steve. Helping the less fortunate with Bucky at his side.

“You feeling tired, Buck?”

Bucky sighs quietly at the gentle question, then smiles and tips his chin up. He closes his eyes as Steve ducks his head back down.

They kiss slowly, barely parting their lips. Steve's hands slip under Bucky's neck and cradle his head, thumbs running across his stubbled jaw and fingers pressing into his neck and hair. He tilts Bucky's head left and deepens their kiss, teases Bucky's mouth open with flicks of his tongue and scrapes of his teeth. The heat of Steve's hands and mouth spreads warmth through him, makes Bucky muscles relax all over his body. He threads his fingers in Steve's hair and tugs him closer, opens his mouth further and swipes his tongue against Steve's. Their breath puffs hotly between them as they press closer, kissing heatedly.

Bucky tries to lean up and change the angle, but Steve moves back and pushes him down, right hand curving around Bucky's shoulder. His hot breaths fan over Bucky's lips and neck, making him shiver minutely.

“How's your side?”

Bucky wants to get mad again. He thumps his head into the pillow and scowls.

“Fine.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes, Steve,” he bites out. He tugs at Steve's hair where his fingers are still tangled, trying to move the lughead closer. Nothing happens.

The fond smile comes out again, and Steve brushes his thumb along Bucky's jaw. “Don't be so grumpy.”

Bucky pouts and crosses his arms. He doesn't care if he looks like a whiny child anymore.

“I thought we were gonna, you know, do somethin'. Not just make eyes at each other.”

“Hm.” Steve puts his hand on Bucky's right side and smooths his palm up and down, “You must be fine if you're still complaining.”

He moves his arms up and leans on his forearms on either side of Bucky's head, tilting his head down into the space between them.

“And we were _just_ doin' something a second ago, if you'll recall.”

Bucky scoffs. “I can barely remember, when all this yapping is puttin' me to sleep.”

“You're bored already, Sergeant?”

Steve's voice has dipped ever so slightly, hinting at the throaty burr that usually surfaces when they're both writhing at the edge of release. It makes instant heat shoot through Bucky's groin. His hips twitch involuntarily.

That sounded like a dare. Bucky smirks lazily and watches Steve's eyes darken, black enveloping blue. He brushes their lips together and speaks right against Steve's mouth.

“What're you gonna do 'bout it, Captain?” he says huskily.

Steve stares down at him and pants heavily against Bucky's mouth, then swipes his tongue slowly around the circle of Bucky's lips. He presses slow, lingering kisses against the corner of Bucky's mouth. Then firmer pecks on his lower lip. Then simply glides their lips against each other, barely touching, but sending a wave of tingling heat through Bucky's lips, down his neck and across his shoulders. Bucky's mouth dips open at the teasing caress, eyes drooping, and already feeling hazy with arousal.

Steve looks at him with a light in his eye, like he knows exactly how worked up Bucky is already. He slides their tongues together for just a moment, a slow sensuous glide that lights up Bucky's senses with the promise of more. But Steve leans back and presses a kiss to Bucky's chin before moving lower, leaving slow lingering kisses down his neck. He nudges Bucky's head sideways as he nuzzles up the side of his throat, then presses a hard, sucking kiss just under his ear.

Bucky's breath punches out of him at the touch. Steve lavishes the sensitive spot, feathering kisses along his hairline and nipping at his skin. Bucky grits his teeth to keep his obscene moans to himself, knowing they would echo around the room and sound like he was already in the throes of passion.

He shudders hard as Steve mouths at his ear, twitching his head away uncontrollably. He's always had such a sensitive neck, causing Steve unending amounts of joy at how much he can unravel Bucky with a little necking. His ears are so sensitive he can barely hang on to his dignity.

Steve sucks in a breath and holds it as he places his mouth right next to Bucky's ear, then exhales, breathing warm air across his ear. Bucky's shaky moan sounds loud in the tiny room, but Steve's throaty voice is a whisper against his ear.

“I'm gonna make you feel so good, Buck.”

_Christ._

Steve is going to wreck him.

“Countin' on it, pal.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://lomii-i.tumblr.com/)


End file.
